Gramophone record
by Madame-de-Sade
Summary: Sequel to my two other America/fem!Austria stories. Something about their last meeting before the war. There are feelings, New York and of course jazz.


Sequel to All that jazz and Everything falls. America/fem!Austria

* * *

**Gramophone record**

Despite the fact that in her life she already had fought many wars and she had seen even more, Austria still could be surprised of silence that fell just before the explosion. Citizens were waiting for the glorious future of the German nation in completely silence. Young boys, those children who would see the war for the first time, their silence was impatient and fierce, even Prussia calmed down, he became focused and alerted. These silence should be break by the music from gramophone records that she had borrowed from America, but she had no courage to listen them.

In August 1939, between the shuffling steps, the roar of cars and volleys of executions you could hear the entire Third Reich held breath.

_Start spreading the news_

_I am leaving today_

_I want to be a part of it_

_New York, New…_

The melody broke off suddenly when Austria realized that she was not alone. Germany stood in the doorway, looking at her with an exorbitant astonishment in his eyes.

"You whistled?"

"Yes." Sophie responded coolly. And maybe a little defiant, because she was a bundle of nerves. Ludwig only raised his eyebrows.

"You go to America again." It was not a question.

"Again." Austria confirmed, unconsciously improving her skirt. For several months she wore civilian clothes only when she flew to New York. All three of them wore uniforms. It was expected, it was a good example.

"Of course you remember that in five days…"

"I remember, I will be on time Germany."

Germany looked at her for a moment as he wanted to say something.

"I think…" He finally said, choosing his words carefully. "that it is not good time for music."

Austria had feeling that Ludwig wanted to say something different.

**O**

"You are kidding! You really didn't listen them?"

"I really didn't have time for them…"

America shook his head. He was sitting directly on the floor, looking at scattered gramophone records. The same with which Sophie handled as a porcelain. "Of course, you know that you must listen them?"

Austria didn't say anything. It absorbed too much control over her own hands, because they wanted to improve Alfred's tie, because like always it looked horrible… Oh hell, she knelt beside him and retied his tie and Alfred just smiled and used the opportunity.

A kiss was slow like a hum of the saxophone.

**O**

Since that winter evening they saw each other when they could, so Austria became a specialist in jazz and know she was learning the noise.

Her cousins probably would be very surprised to hear that always calm and slightly withdrawn Sophie was humming _These vagabond shoes, they are longing to stray, _albeit only quietly and only when they were alone with Alfred. She liked Sinatras' songs and didn't care that her German accent killed them slowly and she loved to laugh with Alfred and went to cinema to watch those stupid films that were prohibited in Reich, but the most she liked whistling. Prussia and Germany would have been surprised if they heard her. But probably they would not be as surprised as she.

Anyway, it was all America's fault.

When America didn't talk, he hummed. When he didn't hum he whistled. And when he didn't whistle he set new gramophone records. And now he played a few notes of slow piano melody. It was visible that he flaunted in front of her. And suddenly Sophie had impression that he was still unruly, jagged kid, England's little brother and she… she, she…

She would feel old, very old, if only New York gave her time for that.

**O**

"England has been here recently." America said, reviewing notes. "He knows that we are seeing each other and he wanted to grumble."

Sophie looked at him with anxiety. England. Stubborn islander, which you would need rather enlist, because it cost less energy than forcing him to obey. It would be necessary, but that didn't mean that you would succeed.

"What did he say?" She asked casually and started playing.

_Start spreading the news,_

_I am leaving today…_

America laughed and he joined her.

_These vagabond shoes_

_They are longing to stray_

"He asked what we were doing here. So I told him that we were playing. And he asked if Wagner. Stupid one, he thinks that were are plotting here."

_Right through the very heart of it_

_New York, New York_

"Well tell me that my brother has no idea about me…"

Sophie opened her mouth to speak to ensure that she understood him…

And suddenly she saw a cold Germany's glance.

"You have to forgive him." She said instead. "In Europe, we generally don't trust anyone."

"Freaks." Alfred nodded.

"You know what? I think that we shouldn't play New York on the piano." Sophie stopped playing and absently touched America's hand. "And what would you think if England started hanging out with Germany?"

"That his shirt is crumpled." America laughed. "No offense Austria, but your cousin is so stiff that you could iron on him. And About New York you are right."

**O**

Through the opened door you could see cluttered with notes piano and a shirt shining in the twilight which was thrown on a chair. Moon, pale light, shredded through the blinds, put the strips on the floor, the table, the glasses of whiskey.

Somewhere in the darkness Frank Sinatra convinced that he would like waking up in the city that never slept.

"You know…" Breath tickled the ear and was very very hot. "You know what is the plus of gramophones?"

"What?"

"The fact that I have you and music and you have free hands."

**O**

Nights in New York had something that Sophie didn't want to sleep. So she was standing just at the window looked through the blinds on the flickering city and listened to the rhythmic breath of gasoline lungs, rapid heart rate of human steps and hiccups of klaxon

"Betty! Hey Betty, don't be silly!"

Window popped open.

"Shut up! Don't you know what time is it?. You idiot!"

"What time is it? What time is it?" Austria thought. But the clock was on the cabinet, far away and it showed useless Viennese time. And why she should even care?

Downstairs she could hear a murmur of conversations, then laughter. On the roof, under the moon cats were singing their songs. And she could also hear the echo of songs although the gramophone was switched off long time ago.

_I want to wake up in the city_

_That doesn't sleep_

_And find I'm king of the hill_

_Top of the heap_

Austria stood beside the window. She stared through the blinds and for a second she was happy. When she fell asleep she dreamed about night, huge gramophone record which covered whole city.

**O**

Long time ago she understood that America was like jazz in spite of many advantages he still was a little bit too noisy.

"Get up!" He exclaimed and unceremoniously sat on Austrias' feet. "Telegram to you!"

"Damn it!" Well it was hard to expect good manners from someone who was crushed by dozens of pounds of an adult man. "Get off me at the moment!"

Sophie stood up and reached for telegram, not bothering to search for glasses.

WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?

"Germany?"

"Prussia." Austria sighed. "Germany doesn't curse."

"Oh." Alfred carelessly threw, searching for something in his pockets. After a while he pulled out a lighter and he took the telegram from Sophie's hand.

"Wait, what do you want…"

"Nothing arrived." America smiled and burned the corner of the telegram. "Blame me as you want, but you promised me that you will stay for a few days, right?"

Jazz was not only noisy, it was also as delicate as a punch in the keyboard.

Austria realized that she didn't know better music.

**O**

Playing in New York, after all, was not only jazz and dancing. There were other entertainment as much popular as simple and uncomplicated as old. And exactly for this entertainment they went now in dusk to the poor corners of Bronx.

When it came to their origin, Austria listened when they walked that no one will get punched and that they knew America from times of Prohibition so there was nothing to worry about.

"I mean, Austria, that for a very long time here was not much to watch. On the right side was prairie on the left too, in the middle a few houses and farms. And well the saloon. So you see if they wanted to relax, they could choose between fight and dancing, both with alcohol. So it became a tradition."

Traditional entertainment, thought Austria when they entered smoked hall full of Blacks and Spaniards. Tables and chairs moved away, fighters already had stripped their t-shirts. Traditional entertainment. Music and fists. She knew the music, but now…

… _I'm king of the hill_

_Top of the heap_

America laughed, nudged her with his elbow.

"What a coincidence!"

"What?" Sophie looked around with amazement. Yes, indeed the radio was on the counter, but… "They are going to fight to the music?"

"You see."

"Why" For what?"

"Because it is illegal. The music deceives the snitches and police."

Austria nodded in silence. Boxers seemed to be identical to her. Same height, same black colour, the same bandaged fists. Not executioner and victim, only two opponents.

_If I can make it there_

_I'll make it anywhere_

"Come on, Lee!"

"From the left, Danny!"

_It's up to you_

_New York, New York_

The crowd whistled, screamed, stomped, the owner changed the stations frantically, looking for a louder music.

"Austria, are you okay? What is going on?"

"Nothing." Austria's voice sounded hollow. "We in Europe also use music."

**O**

"Well." America spoke when they went out into the street. "What happened? Something in Europe? I warn you, if you tell me nothing I will be angry."

They went a few minutes in completely silence. Light was dim, it was not the flicker district and suddenly Austria felt depressed because of these dim lights.

"Why are we doing this?" Her voice was tired. Old as earth, older than any other on this continent.

"What?"

"Good Lord, do we completely loose our minds? Why do we need all this now?"

"What is going on, Sophie?"

"You think that we will play like that to the end of the world?"

"Come on, damn it!" America stopped suddenly and grabbed her by her arms. "Don't tell me that you have doubts now. Stop it… it is the telegram, right? It made you upset? I can see it, so tell me what is going on? Something in Europe? I heard that you recently go there pretty good, but…"

"Let me, if you please." She replied calmly. Sophie released from America's grip and looked at him with embarrassment. "I am sorry. I just think about something… I have enough my entire Europe, I am sick at the memory of it. Sorry."

In the light of the lantern she saw that Americas' eyebrows raised even higher.

"No, no, I am not angry…" Alfred said. "Look, maybe I shouldn't burn the telegram? They have some problems in Europe?""

"When I left everything was in perfect order, but…"

"But you will come back to see if it is really in perfect order, don't you?" America said a little bit irritated, but also with a bit of relief.

"Yes, you know me." Austria said and smiled suddenly to distant skyscrapers. "I am going to come back tomorrow, but for now… For now, let's use the fact that it is today and let's go for a drink."

_These little town blues_

_Are melting away_

_I'm gonna make a brand new start of it_

_In old New York_

**O**

"We will see soon, right?" America asked, when he was saying goodbye to her at the airport.

"Yes of course." Austria said slowly.

"And don't worry." He touched her shoulder, looked into her eyes. Blue and laughing. Purple and dim. "Whatever happens, everything will be okay."

"Austria!" He called when Sophie was getting to the plane."

"What?"

"If you see England, you can kick him from me!"

Austria snorted involuntarily, her laughter was lost in the roar of engine, the noise was so loud that she could barely hear her thoughts. _And if I can make it there, I'm gonna make it anywhere, _she lost the haunting, wailing song in her head, _It's up to you New York, New York ..._

One more moment and she didn't hear anything, didn't think anything.


End file.
